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CHRYSANTHEMUMS 



CHRYSANTHEMUMS 



By Phil Robinson 



GEORGE H BUCHANAN AND COMPANY 
PHILADELPHIA 




*£> 



COPYRIGHT It 



FOREWORD 

The inc7'easing interest of flower 
lovers in the development of 
the Chrysanthemum is sufficient 
reason for offeri?ig, in a form 
worthy of preservation, this 
little essay by one of the most 
delight 'fid of our modern Eng- 
lish writers. 




waning year 
keeps to the last 
its best gift to our 
gardens, for there is 
no flower that blows 
comparable to the 
chrysanthemum : 



It cheers with bloom the stormy gloom 
By chill December nursed, 

And it is told in stories old 
That this fair flower first, 

On that blest morn when Christ was born, 
Into white beauty burst. 



But traditions apart — and 
the chrysanthemum has many, 
for have not two queens worn 
it as their badge and emblem, 
and does not an emperor to- 
day entitle it "the royal 
flower"? — it is a delightful 
and a wonderful blossom, this 
darling of winter, the only 
flower in the garden, and yet 
a whole garden ful of flowers 
in itself. Spring, summer 
and autumn enjoy a constant 
succession of bouquets, and 



from the multitude of their 
contending charms no single 
blossom can fairly call itself 
the chief flower of the day, or 
claim to wear the crown of 
beauty. But for winter our 
gardens keep only one posy, 
the chrysanthemum, and Flora 
thus dignifies it beyond all the 
flowers of the year by giving 
it the whole throne to itself: 

Symbol of Hope, still banishing 

the gloom 
Hung o'er the mind by stern 

December's reign. 



A bleak reign, it is true, but 
then there is none to share its 
sceptre with it, so the chrys- 
anthemum queens it in solitary 
brilliance over empty beds. 
Lest, though, it should seem 
too manifestly alone, and the 
eye might tire of a single 
flower, however beautiful, if 
monotonous in color, shape 
or size, the chrysanthemum 
seems forever straining to 
spread its own charm over 
half the parterres. No lilies 



show so clear a white, no daf- 
fodils so clear a yellow ; roses 
have no better pinks, and all 
the family of the hollyhocks 
and dahlias and many of the 
others — for instance, calceo- 
larias and zinias — cannot show 
tints and half-tones in crimson 
and orange and tawny more 
decided, bright and various 
than the chrysanthemum alone. 
And, not content with rival- 
ing their colors alone, it gives 
the whole garden back shape 



for shape, as well as hue for 
hue, and, whether as a rose, 
a dahlia, an aster, a carnation, 
or a daisy, it makes its pretty 
mimicry sufficiently exact to 
create gratitude for its variety 
and to abolish monotony. 

All our large-flowered vari- 
eties have been grown from 
the single Chusan chrysanthe- 
mum, and the delightful dwarf 
pompons have in the same 
way been produced from the 
Chusan daisy. A hundred 



years of experimental cultiva- 
tion have been necessary to 
arrive at such floral triumphs 
as the. Elaine, the Nil Desper- 
andum, or the Button Helene, 
and viewed therefore solely as 
a work of art, the chrysanthe- 
mum is worthy of respectful 
admiration"; while as a work 
of nature to praise it seems 
almost impertinent. Looking 
down the bank of flowers at 
any chrysanthemum show, the 
exquisite form is astonishing. 



Blue alone has never been 
attained, but the chrysanthe- 
mum, besides its pure whites 
and yellows — 

More pure and clear than any here, 
Their snowy disks unfold ; 

Bright as the star that melts afar 
Into the morning's gold — 

positively revels in shades of 
all the other colors — pink, 
crimson, chestnut, orange, 
lilac, puce, carmine, amber, 
violet, peach, magenta, ruby, 
cinnamon, sulphur, fawn, buff, 
salmon, maroon, bronze, 



cherry, scarlet, mauve, purple, 
and, above all, in white sil- 
ver, silver white, cream white, 
ivory white, snow white. No 
wonder, then, that with such 
a range of hue the chrysanthe- 
mum should justify the confi- 
dence of Flora in its power to 
queen it alone in the winter- 
stricken garden ! and have I 
not done well to claim it as 
my favorite ? 

In contour also, as in 
color, the chrysanthemum 



knows no margins. On one 
plant the bloom cuddles all its 
petals together, making a 
round, soft ball of itself; on 
another it flings them out all 
flat from the centre in a great 
disk of color ; a third binds 
its central petals into a button 
or arranges them in a crown 
or a tuft, and then sends out 
on every side rays of bright 
tints, some long, some short, 
but all in a method as exact 
as on the stars of any order 

16 



of honor. Some of the flow- 
ers curl their pretty fronds 
inward, others curve them 
backward ; some take the 
dahlia's form, others the sun- 
flower's; some assume the 
precise circle, others radiate 
in quaint marginal devices. 
Of them all, the Elaine, with its 
great fleecy, snow-like flowers, 
is perhaps the queen ; but in 
such a puzzling variety of 
charms it is difficult to award 
the palm. The connoisseur 



turns, of course, to the coral- 
red Mons. Crousse, the no less 
curious La Frisure, or the ever- 
new varieties, such as the 
McMahon, the Gazelle, and 
the Empress of India; but for 
the uninitiated the equality of 
beauty suffices to make all ad- 
mired. Many of the tints, it 
is true, are curious rather than 
pretty, and many of the shapes 
fantastic rather than graceful ; 
but these triumphs of art are 
in no way blemishes upon the 



plant that can show the splen- 
did blossom of the Elaine or 
the purity in color of the 
George Glenn y. Nor is it 
only in tint and outline that 
the chrysanthemum arrogates 
such privileges, but in size 
also, for twenty pompons 
would lie upon the disk of 
one Elaine, and the Empress 
of India over-shadows like a 
shrub the tiny Christabel. Yet 
one more triumph has the 
chrysanthemum achieved. 



The glory of other plants, the 
perfume, seemed at one time 
beyond its reach ; but audacity 
or patience has conquered 
even here, and the Progue, 
with the color of the amethyst, 
has also the odor of violet. No 
further triumph remains for it. 

Type of a true and holy love ; the same 
Through every scene that crowds life's 

varied page. 
'Mid grief, 'mid gladness — spell of every 

dream 
Tender in youth, and strong in feeble 

age ! 
The peerless picture of a modest wife, 
Thou bloom'st the fairest 'midst the frosts 

of life. 



AFTERWORD 

This little volume is put forth as 
an example of the fi,7ier grade 
of book printing. We ask you 
to notice the style of the type 
work, the paper, the inks, the 
margins and the binding, and 
mark their harmony. 

George H Buchanan and Company 
420 Library Street 420 

Philadelphia 



MADE IN THE WORKROOMS OF 

GEORGE H BUCHANAN AND COMPANY 

420 LIBRARY STREET 420 

PHILADELPHIA 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 



000 920 184 1 




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